(Source: sostrangefeelings)

At first I thought falling in love meant falling into your arms, but that didn’t hold up for very long. Your arms eventually caught someone else, and so I had to change my definition to fit anyone. Well, not just anyone —someone new. So now, falling in love means smiling eyes and warm hands and connections that run just below my skin so the blush of my cheeks matches the red of your lips after we kiss.

So far, I haven’t yet fallen in love again.

is an ongoing one. I should have kept that in mind when I wrote this, a couple months ago. Yes, their relationship changed since they’ve gotten married, perhaps deteriorating into that shell of a relationship I mentioned earlier; but it wasn’t the end. It still isn’t.

Coming home this weekend, when my parents picked me up from campus, I automatically felt that something drastic had changed. Something wonderful. But I couldn’t point it out, even after they asked me whether I’ll ever visit the Philippines in the future, even after they’ve died. (To which I replied with a ‘Fuck yes!’ and then covered my mouth right afterward.) And they laughed. Together.

My dad reached over from the steering wheel to hold my mom’s hand.

He’s never really done that, at least for as long as he did that night; and sitting in the car as it rolled along, being rhythmically bathed in lamplight, listening to The Beastie Boys’ dedication playlist, I just knew there was something different. We ate dinner at IHOP after picking up my little brother from the mall, and he’d nudge at me whenever my parents would do something cutesy. We all laughed.

This morning, I finally asked.

It turns out that a couple of weeks ago, my parents had the biggest fight they’ve ever had. But instead of shoving it under the rug as they always do, they both talked. About everything. About getting older. About me and my brother. About finally realizing that neither of their future plans had the other in mind, and that wasn’t right. And realizing they still loved each other. My mom said it was tear-filled, and the first time she’s ever seen my father cry (even after the death of his father and sister), it reminded her that he’s human. Just human. Not some pride-filled beast she liked thinking he was.

Since then, they’ve been closer. He’s taken initiative in spending time with my brother and I, she was able to tell him all her little frustrations. They’ve finally saw what my brother and I sensed was still there, and it makes me so happy. I just wish they were like that during my childhood, because I still have this inexplicable looming fear that I’ll end up going down the same road.

Gosh, even typing this I started crying. For so long, I’ve just wanted them to be happy. With each other. And they finally are.

To love someone doesn’t mean merely accepting their faults, nor changing them; but learning to grow in spite of those imperfections —together. People aren’t perfect, so neither are the relationships that come of them. Strive for someone that keeps you passionate, keeps you thinking, and makes you a better you, even through any personal failures.

Most of all, realize you were two separate entities as you fell in love, and remaining as such will define the aspects which can keep that attraction.

(Source: anditslove)

(Source: flawlessdisney)

(Source: wereyouonceanoutcast)